Written by Girl Birthday Gift
I should really be sleeping right now, but the image of Wes curled up to nurse one last time as a real, honest-to-goodness infant keeps replaying in my mind. Truly, seriously, I am baffled at how quickly the time passed by this last year. Those contractions I thought were merely lackluster cramps happened only a couple months ago. There is still a squishy, curled up three-month-old in the next room sleeping.
But, no. Time has seeped in and out of days and turned into months, and now we are standing here at the one year mark.
I keep popping in to get one last look at him, feeling as if I am missing out on something. And I am not really sure what or why I am feeling so sentimental and weepy about it. I don't recall feeling this way about Luke turning one. I suppose that with each child, we realize how brief the "baby" phase actually is and set our hearts in deeper to savor its innocence. (And that sweet, sweet new baby breath!) Or perhaps with each child, our capacity to love expands; it grows thick, knotted roots, which plant themselves firmly into our relationships with each child, making it more strenuous when those roots are shifted and tugged at. Which is exactly what happens as children grow older. There is a subconscious awareness that with each birthday celebrated means a year closer to not needing and relying on mom as much as they once were. Although, there are new ways in which we are needed, and I can't say just exactly what those things are since that stage is out of sight. (For now.) But what I do know is that being Wesley's mom has changed me.
My hair is patchy in the front, my hips will never pull back into the size they were before, and there are a few more lines and crinkles around my eyes; but my heart is permanently altered.
(Great, here come the tears. The screen is starting to get fuzzy and I can't be sure on what I am typing. But, I will push through the blubbering!)
Wes... he is just special. I don't feel like much a wordsmith in selecting that adjective to describe him, but that is what strongly comes to mind whenever I think of him.
He is gentle and sweet in a way that stretches beyond his infancy. I remember sensing that same feeling the first time he cuddled up on my chest in the hospital. It was electrifying and serene all in the same moment. And I suppose that would be a wonderful way to describe his personality as it emerges each day. The child has a fire about him. But he is also incredibly gentle and calming. He is that baby who will sit on your lap for hours and is content to just hang out and smile and laugh.
Just yesterday at the store he sat peacefully in the cart and waved to every person who walked by us. Most of them were women, which followed with a, "Oh my word! What a doll!" and a, "Look! He is waving at me! Such a sweetie pie!" (His wave is a mixture between a Miss America contestant and spirit fingers. And yes, it does happen to be one of the most adorable things on the planet.)
Wes also loves to carefully explore his surroundings. Some of this is just a developmental age thing, but I am getting a feel for who he is more and more as I watch him awaken to the world around him.
I love how his face lights up when we sing a song, like it was written especially for him. He becomes hopelessly doe-eyed and his smile beams from ear to ear. (That four-toothed smile I so dearly love.)
And gosh, does he adore his daddy and his brother. The sun rises and sets on the two of them. Whenever Wes gets to see Luke after waking up, he starts squealing and giggling a deep, infectious belly laugh. The kind that captivates you and makes you feel like your eyes are twinkling. Whenever Matt walks through the door, it's a crawling dash straight toward him, all while he is excitedly saying, "Da-da! Da-da!"
Then there is our bond. Wes is a complete mama's boy, and I love it. He's been affixed to me for the last 21 months in one shape or another. I am his safe place, his happy place, and I don't ever want to lose that.
Wes, we love you so much, there are simply no words. So, we will let our hugs and kisses and smiles tell the rest of that story.
Happy 1st birthday, Chubby Dubby!
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